It's funny that I had never imagined myself like this. From the time I was in high school I had planned out, to the final detail, what I wanted to do with my life. Being successful was so pressed on me as important that I felt like I had to use all of my abilities and fulfill all my potential. At that time I had no other inkling of doing anything else with my life. I suppose that's what made me decide to go to med school. I was the valedictorian of my class, which seemed to me to be a great reason to tackle such a huge obstacle as med school. Plus, I have always been interested in helping sick people, as crazy as that can sound. No matter how much preparation I made for my future, however, nothing could have prepared me for the boulder that was about to fall into my path.
I had finally made it through four years of pre-med schooling and just about to make my transfer over to Michigan State University. All my belongings were slowly being packed up into boxes and whatever else my roommates and I could find to fit my shit into my tiny Chevy Malibu. Not that I had that much: most of my things included clothing items, make-up and whatnot. I was taking with me my small refrigerator (one of my best friends) and also all my bed sheets to use in my new dorm.
There was so much I would miss about the old place, though. My roommates and I had grown to love each other's company. I feared I'd never make friends like them again. We'd keep in touch, though, we promised each other. I was the only one of them who was continuing on to get my PhD. The rest of my roommates were happy with their bachelors' degrees and were moving on to jobs and a real life away from college. Not I...nope, I would become a doctor. If only it could have remained that easy. That 'just do it' attitude changed a little, well, more than a little, in the year after I left.
After exchanging hugs and friendly kisses on the cheeks, I stepped into my car, sat down, took a deep breath to clear the tears that were threatening to fall, and turned the key. After waving goodbye and crying out, "remember to call me," I shut the car door and departed. It was starting over, though it seemed like I had just begun pre-med school. I'd just secured myself in my surroundings, and now I had to disturb my security once again. I reminded myself that I would find a new security blanket of people and places, and everything would be fine. It would just take a while to get used to it, that's all.
The freeway was lonely at that time of the morning. Few commuters had to leave as early as I had chosen to. I wanted to leave before the rush, since many people were leaving their dorms today or tomorrow. My parents would be happy to house me for the week that I had to wait before continuing on to Michigan State University. Hopefully my mother wouldn't go completely nuts and overfeed me like she did the first time I came home for spring break. After gaining that ten pounds I had decided to go home only on weekends when mom couldn't overfeed me. Of course, I did have to visit for the holidays, but I usually only stayed a couple of days. I had back-up places to run to just in case.
Don't get me wrong; I love my parents. It's just that I've always been an only child, and after I turned eleven I didn't want as much attention as they always wanted to give me. I've always gotten everything I've wanted. Whenever we went shopping and I wanted a toy, I got it. When I turned sweet sixteen I got the car I wanted. Now my parents are pretty much paying for college for me. Not that I'm complaining; it sure helps me out. It's just that I sometimes wish I had a sibling they could pester, too. There's a thin line between caring parents and smothering parents. I don't want to be dependant on them the rest of my life, which is yet another reason I chose med school.
I let out a sigh as I pulled into the driveway of my parent's house, the house I grew up in, a comforting sight after a highly emotional morning. I glanced at the clock to find it was only eight-thirty in the morning. I had no doubt my parent's would be awake, they don't sleep past seven o'clock, ever; I just didn't want to arrive before I had told them to expect me or else I would really get it from my mother. I could hear her disgust already. "You're early! We weren't expecting you until nine." She would sigh, wipe her hands on the dishrag she was carrying and then continue, "And I don't have breakfast ready yet. Were you speeding?"
Then my father would chime in.
"Oh Lily! Leave the girl alone. She's probably ready to be home." He'd call from the living room where he would be sitting in his chair, reading the morning paper, turning the page and then shaking the paper to straighten out the pages. Then I'd set down my purse on the counter, go into the living room and hug my father (I have always been a daddy's girl).
Life was predictable, even with all the uprooting I had to do all the time. As far as I was concerned, it could have remained that way. I didn't mind a little bit, or maybe a lot, of predictability. It left me with some security in my life. Maybe it was foolish to think I could hold on to the last shred of security in my life. It was all ripped from me in a matter of seconds; one glance was all it took to make me fall head first into a storm, swirling and plummeting, that would change all that I had ever known. I fought it, though. I didn't want to let something so, in my mind, superficial as a simple relationship, which in my experience had only led to bad endings, to ruin what I had so meticulously developed for myself. It took me a while before I realized I had to let the storm swallow me in order to be utterly free of the bonds by which it was holding me.
I smile at him now, quietly watching him as he sleeps, his chest rising and falling with each breath of air he takes in. I wonder at the soft curls of hair around each of his nipples and in the middle of his chest on his breastbone. My eyes follow the line of hair that runs from the bottom of his bellybutton down to below the light yellow sheet that sits atop our bed covering the rest of his body. He stirs a little. I wonder if he senses that I am watching him so intently.
He saved me, though at the time I didn't know I needed to be saved. I didn't know what I was missing from life until I met him, truly met him. From the beginning I knew he was trouble, just from his cunning look, his soft green eyes, and the quirky way he smiled at me as I passed him in the dining commons. I knew he would do me in.
From that point on it was like he has set a spell on me, and an awful one at that. I couldn't go to bed at night without thinking about him. His sweet smile, the look in his green eyes as he looked at me, obviously letting his gaze fall to my breasts, my was all just so entrancing to me. Even when I told myself that he was just trouble for me, my heart found a way to interject a thought of him during my studies, during my lunch, during my job, whenever really. I even allowed myself to constitute a small date with him.
We went out for pizza, a food group staple in my life, and then to a movie, his treat. I couldn't lie to myself; the date had been the most fun I had had in a very long time. In fact, we even cuddled a little bit in the theatre, which made the date even more interesting.
After the date, though, I fought with myself (I'm not crazy) over whether or not to go out with him again. I even told myself I shouldn't because a boyfriend would completely demolish my study time. And anyway, I had avoided boyfriends for years, why should I adopt one now? It would just ruin my ? I laugh now. It took me so long to convince myself not to see him that I would stop listening in class and then come out of my daze and realize I missed an entire lecture. Once I thought I had myself convinced to not go out with him again, he called. I said yes without a second thought, without a stutter. It was so natural to me. Being with him was natural.
I hated myself when I realized what I had done. He broke down my defenses without even trying. Like a breath to a house of cards, I crashed.
Two months ago I graduated from med school, and I am working in a hospital as a new surgeon in the E.R. It's an exciting job. It keeps me away from him a lot though. But when I get home, he's waiting. Sometimes he cooks for me, he cleans the house, does the things I can't when I'm not there.
Last night I came home and there was a beautiful table set in the middle of the room with our plates and forks, right in front of the fireplace. The lights were low. There was rock music playing, and in the background I could here him whistling to the melody. I snuck in quietly, knowing he was up to something. When I found him he was leaning over the stove, stirring a pot of alfredo sauce he was making. As if he sensed me, he turned, his green eyes full of surprise.
"You're not supposed to be home yet." He contested as he walked towards me. It's funny he said that: I was on time, at least by my standards. He told me to go upstairs and to put on the dress that was lying on our bed after I took a shower. He had something special for me.
When I came down in the black and red satin gown (which I was astounded at, the dress was gorgeous), I found the table had candles on it now, both lit, a bowl of salad in the middle, and instead of metal rock music, soft, romantic music played in the background. He was just finishing up in the kitchen, and walked out into the living room where I stood. He was wearing a tux.
"My lady.I was just about to bring out the food." He pulled a chair out for me at the table, speaking in an overly formal voice. He smiled and winked at me. I sat, entranced by it all.
He brought out two plates of noodles and alfredo sauce, plus garlic bread and a vegetable. It looked and smelled delicious. He set one plate in front of me, and one plate on the placemat in front of where he would sit. Then he went back into the kitchen. He came back out with two salad plates. He set one down near his place setting. I saw him visibly take a breath before turning to me. He knelt down in front of me, bringing the plate down to a level that I could see. On the plate was a ring.
He is amazing; everything I have ever dreamed of since I was a child filled with visions of Prince Charming and Happily Ever Afters. Even in the soft light, he glows. Of it all, though, I am most in awe over the fact that he is mine, and I am his, and we will remain together like this, in bliss, as long as we live.